I thank thee for the lyre which thou hast strung!
Those thrilling lays—that have with me communed,
That deep toned lyre—by holy feelings tuned.
Still let thy silvery dulcet tones be heard,
Like the low warbling of some lonely bird;
Or let thy full toned diapason roll,
Like organ strains—entrancing every soul!
This weary earth is full of discord strange;
But when thy harp is struck, how sweet the change!
Then tune it oft, and sweep th’ obedient strings